
Class 

Book 



CCBOUGUT OEPOSIIi 



/ 






SOCIAL LIFE IN OLD VIRGINIA 
BEFORE THE WAR 



Social Life in Old Virginia 
Before the War 

BY 

THOMAS NELSON PAGE 

With Illustrations by 
THE MISSES COWLES 



t 



NEW YORK 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

M DCCC XCVII 



ES RECtiVLD 



Copyright, i8g7, 
By Charles Scribner's Sons. 



. Pl3 



®nit)frsitg ^rfss : 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, Mass , U.S.A. 



List of Illustrations 



PAGE 



*' Tall lilies J ^white as angels^ ivings 
and stately as the maidens that 'walked 
among them "" . . . . . frontispiece 

The Plantation House 9 

" Shining tables njoith slender brass-tipped 

legs ' ' 12 

^^ There the guns njuere kept ^^ . . . . 13 
*' Bookcases filled nxiith bro^ivn-backed, 

much-read books ^^ 15 

<< The flonjoer of all others ivas the rose '' 18 

Tobacco 20 

A ^^ Typical Mammy ^'' 23 

" The little girls in their great sun-bon- 
nets''^ 26 

'< Busy onjer their little matters nvith that 

ceaseless energy of boyhood ^^ . . . . 27 
** The test of the mens pro-tvess'''' ... 29 
vii 



List of Illustrations 



PAGE 



The Excluslue Property of the Mistress . 3 3 

The Mistress 39 

^^ His thoughts d^-welt upon serious things '' 49 

An Old Virginia Sideboard . . . . 55 
" She njjas ne~oer anything but tender 

njjith the others ' ' 61 

** The Butler -tvas apt to be se^uere^ and 

^was feared'''' 65 

The Lady and the Ox- Cart .... 69 

An Old fashioned Grist-Mill .... 75 

A Colonial Stooje 81 

Dressing the Church ...... 87 

" At last the ' big gate'' is reached'''' . 93 

The Virginia Reel . „ 99 

A Negro Wedding . 103 

A Typical Negro Cabin 107 



Vlll 



Introduction 

Which none need read unless he pleases. 

|\TO one can be more fully aware 
of the shortcomings of this brief 
sketch of Social Life in the South 
before the War than is the writer. 
Its slightness might readily have ex- 
cused It from republication. And yet 
it has seemed well to let it go forth 
on its own account, to take such place 
as it may in the great world of books. 
One reason is the partiality of a few 
friends who have desired to see it in 
this form. Another is the absolute 
ignorance of the outside world of the 
real life of the South in old times, and 
the desire to correct the picture for the 
benefit of the younger generation of 
Southerners themselves. One of the 
I I 



Introduction 

factors in that life was slavery. The 
most renowned picture of Southern life 
is one of it as it related exclusively to 
that institution. As an argument in the 
case then at bar, it was one of the most 
powerful ever penned. Mrs. Stowe did 
more to free the slave than all the poli- 
ticians. And yet her picture is not one 
which any Southerner would willingly 
have stand as a final portrait of South- 
ern life. No one could understand that 
life who did not see it in its entirety. 

The old life at the South passed 
away in the flame of war and in the 
yet more fiery ordeal of Reconstruc- 
tion. So complete was this devastation 
that now unless one knows where to 
go he may search in vain for its reality. 
Its remnants lie scattered in far-off 
neighborhoods ; its fragments almost 
overgrown with the tangles of a new 
life. The picture of it which at 
present is mainly presented is wholly 



Introduction 

unreal. The Drama is one of the ac- 
cepted modes of judging of passing 
life. It is assumed to be a reason- 
ably true reflection of the life it pre- 
tends to portray. If this standard shall 
be accepted, what a life that must have 
been which existed in the South ! The 
bloodhounds, brute and human, that 
chased delicate women for sport, have 
mainly been given up. But their place 
has been taken by a different species of 
barbarian if possible even more unreal 
than those they supplanted. Quite a 
large crop of so-called Southern plays, 
or at least plays in which Southerners 
have figured, has of late been intro- 
duced on the stage, and the suppositi- 
tious Southerner is as absurd a creation 
as the wit of ignorance ever devised. 
The Southern girl is usually an under- 
bred little provincial, whose chief char- 
acteristic is to say " reckon " and 
" real," with strong emphasis, in every 
3 



Introduction 

other sentence. And the Southern 
gentleman is a sloven whose linen has 
never known starch ; who clips the 
endings of his words ; says " Sah " 
at the end of every sentence, and 
never uses an " r " except in the 
last syllable of " nigger." With a 
slouched hat, a slovenly dress, a plenti- 
ful supply of " sahs," and a slurred 
speech exclusively applied to " niggers," 
he is equipped for the stage. And 
yet it is not unkindly meant : only 
patronizingly, which is worse. That 
Thackeray, Matthew Arnold, Law- 
rence, and other visitors whose Eng- 
lish passes current, declared atter a 
visit to America that they found the 
purest English speech spoken in Vir- 
ginia, goes for nothing. 

If the writers of the plays referred to 
would attend one of the formal assem- 
blies under one of the old social asso- 
ciations in the South, — for instance, 
4 



Introduction 

the St. Cecilia Ball in Charleston, one 
of the final refuges of old-fashioned 
gentility and distinguished manners, — 
they would get some idea of what old- 
time good breeding and high courtesy 
were. 

It is perhaps partly to correct this 
erroneous idea of the Old South that 
this little essay has been attempted. 
But mainly it has been from sheer 

affection. 

T. N. P. 



^-7 



X 




Tall lilies, n.vhite as angels^ n.vings and stately as the maidens that 
•ivalked among them.^^ 



SOCIAL LIFE IN OLD 

VIRGINIA 

BEFORE THE WAR 

T ET me see if I can describe an old 
^ Virginia home recalled from a 
memory stamped with it when a virgin 
page. It may, perhaps, be idealized by 
the haze of time ; but it will be as I 
now remember it. 

The mansion was a plain " weather- 
board " house, one story and a half 
above the half-basement ground floor, 
set on a hill in a grove of primeval oaks 
and hickories filled in with ash, maples, 
and feathery-leafed locusts without num- 
ber. It was built of timber cut by the 
" servants " (they were never termed 
slaves except in legal documents) out 
of the virgin forest, not long after the 
Revolution, when that branch of the 
family moved from Yorktown. It had 
quaint dormer windows, with small 
7 



Social Life 

panes, poking out from Its sloping up- 
stairs rooms, and long porches to shelter 
its walls from the sun and allow house 
life in the open air. 

A number of magnificent oaks and 
hickories (there had originally been a 
dozen of the former, and the place from 
them took its name, " Oakland"), under 
which Totapottamol children may have 
played, spread their long arms about it, 
sheltering nearly a half-acre apiece ; 
whilst in among them and all around 
were ash and maples, an evergreen or 
two, lilacs and syringas and roses, and 
locusts of every age and size, which in 
springtime filled the air with honeyed 
perfume, and lulled with the " murmur 
of innumerable bees." 

There was an " office " in the yard ; 
another house where the boys used to 
stay, and the right to sleep in which was 
as eagerly looked forward to and as 
highly prized as was by the youth of 
Rome the wearing of the toga virilis. 
There the guns were kept ; there the 



in Old Virginia 

dogs might sleep with their masters, 
under, or in cold weather even on, the 
beds; and there charming bits of mas- 
culine gossip were retailed by the older 
young gentlemen, and delicious tales of 
early wickedness related, all the more 
delightful because they were veiled in 
chaste language phrased not merely to 
meet the doctrine, maxima reverentia 
puer'is dehetur^ but to meet the higher 
truth that no gentleman would use foul 
language. 

Off to one side was the orchard, in 
springtime a bower of pink and snow, 
and always making a pleasant spot in 
the landscape ; beyond which peeped 
the ample barns and stables, and far- 
ther yet lay the wide green fields. 

Some of the fields that stretched 
around were poor, and in places where 
the rains had washed off the soil, red 
" galls " showed through ; but the tillage 
was careful and systematic, and around 
the house were rich hay-fields where 
the cattle stood knee-deep in clover. 
II 



Social Life 

The brown worm fences ran in lateral 
lines, and the ditches were kept clean 
except for useful willows. 




J\iA«JUd. t^J^ 



The furniture was old-timey and 
plain, — mahogany and rosewood bed- 
steads and dressers black with age, and 
polished till they shone like mirrors, 

12 




<< 'There the guns nvere kept.'"'' 



in Old Virginia 



hung with draperies white as snow ; 
straight-backed chairs generations old 
interspersed with common 
new ones ; long sofas 4^^^- 

with claw feet ; old 




" Bookcases filled ivith bronxm-backed, 
much-read books. ^^ 

shining tables with slender brass-tipped 

legs, straight or fluted, holding some 

fine old books, and in springtime a blue 

15 



Social Life 

or flowered bowl or two with glorious 
roses ; bookcases filled with brown- 
backed, much-read books. This was all. 

The servants' houses, smoke-house, 
wash-house, and carpenter-shop were 
set around the " back yard," with 
" mammy's house " a little nicer than 
the others ; and farther off, upon and 
beyond the quarters hill, " the quarters," 
— whitewashed, substantial buildings, 
each for a family, with chicken-houses 
hard by, and with yards closed in by 
split palings, filled with fruit trees, 
which somehow bore cherries, peaches, 
and apples in a mysterious profusion 
even when the orchard failed. 

Beyond the yard were gardens. 
T^here were two, — the vegetable gar- 
den and the flower garden. The former 
was the test of the mistress's power; 
for at the most critical times she took 
the best hands on the place to work it. 
The latter was the proof of her taste. It 
was a strange aff'air : pyrocanthus hedged 
it on the outside ; honeysuckle ran riot 
i6 



in Old Virginia 

over its palings, perfuming the air ; 
yellow cowslips in well-regulated tufts 
edged some borders, while sweet peas, 
pinks, and violets spread out recklessly 
over others ; jonquilles yellow as gold, 
and, once planted, blooming every spring 
as certainly as the trees budded or the 
birds nested, grew in thick bunches ; and 
here and there were tall lilies, white as 
angels' wings and stately as the maidens 
that walked among them ; big snowball 
bushes blooming with snow, lilacs pur- 
ple and white and sweet in the spring, 
and always with birds' nests in them 
with the bluest of eggs ; and in places 
rosebushes, and tall hollyhock stems 
filled with rich rosettes of every hue and 
shade, made a delicious tangle. In the 
autumn rich dahlias and pungent-odored 
chrysanthemums ended the sweet pro- 
cession and closed the season. 

But the flower of all others was the 

rose. There were roses everywhere ; 

clambering roses over the porches and 

windows, sending their fragrance into 

2 ly 



^/^ 



^ m.' 



the rooms ; roses beside the walks ; 
roses around the yard and in the gar- 
den ; roses of every hue and dehcate 
refinement of perfume ; rich yellow 
roses thick on their briery bushes, 
coming almost with the dandelions 
and buttercups, before any others 
dared face the April showers to learn 
if March had truly gone, sweet as if 
they had come from Paradise to be 
worn upon young maidens' bosoms, 
as they might well have done — who 
knows ? — followed by the Giant of 
Battles on their stout stems, glorious 
enough to have been the worthy badge 
of victorious Lancastrian kings ; white 
Yorks, hardly less royal ; cloth-of- 
golds ; dainty teas ; rich damasks ; 
old sweet hundred-leafs sifting down 
their petals on the grass, and always 
filling with two the place where one 
i8 



Social Life in Old Virginia 

had fallen. These and many more 
whose names have faded made the air 
fragrant, whilst the catbirds and mock- 
ing-birds fluttered and sang among them, 
and the robins foraged in the grass for 
their greedy yellow-throats waiting in 
the hidden nests. 

Looking out over the fields was a 
scene not to be forgotten. 

Let me give it in the words of one 
who knew and loved Virginia well, and 
was her best interpreter : ^ — 

" A scene not of enchantment, 
though contrast often made it seem so, 
met the eye. Wide, very wide fields 
of waving grain, billowy seas of green 
or gold as the season chanced to be, 
over which the scudding shadows chased 
and played, gladdened the heart with 

1 Dr. George W. Bagby. His *' Old Vir- 
ginia Gentleman '■" is perhaps the best sketch 
yet written in the South. To it I am doubt- 
less indebted for much in this paper. His 
description might do for a picture of Staunton 
Hill resting in delicious calm on its eminence 
above the Staunton River. 

19 



Social Life 



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I 



Tobacco. 



wealth far spread. Upon lowlands 
level as the floor the plumed and tas- 
selled corn stood tall and dense, rank 
behind rank in military alignment — a 



20 



in Old Virginia 

serried army lush and strong. The 
rich, dark soil of the gently swelling 
knolls could scarcely be seen under the 
broad lapping leaves of the mottled 
tobacco. The hills were carpeted with 
clover. Beneath the tree-clumps fat 
cattle chewed the cud, or peaceful 
sheep reposed, grateful for the shade. 
In the midst of this plenty, half hidden 
in foliage, over which the graceful 
shafts of the Lombard poplar towered, 
with its bounteous garden and its or- 
chards heavy with fruit near at hand, 
peered the old mansion, white, or dusky 
red, or mellow gray by the storm and 
shine of years. 

" Seen by the tired horseman halting 
at the woodland's edge, this picture, 
steeped in the intense quivering sum- 
mer moonlight, filled the soul with 
unspeakable emotions of beauty, ten- 
derness, peace, home. 

** How calm could we rest 
In that bosom of shade with the friends we 
love best! 

21 



Social Life 

" Sorrows and care were there — 
where do they not penetrate ? But, 
oh ! dear God, one day in those sweet, 
tranquil homes outweighed a fevered 
lifetime in the gayest cities of the globe. 
Tell me nothing ; I undervalue naught 
that man's heart delights in. I dearly 
love operas and great pageants ; but I 
do know — as I know nothing else — 
that the first years of human life, and 
the last, yea, if it be possible, all the 
years, should be passed in the country. 
The towns may do for a day, a week, 
a month at most ; but Nature, Mother 
Nature, pure and clean, is for all time, 
— yes, for eternity itself." 

The life about the place was amaz- 
ing. There were the busv children 
playing in groups, the bovs of the fam- 
ily mingling with the little darkies as 
freely as any other young animals, and 
forming the associations which tem- 
pered slavery and made the relation one 
not to be understood save by those who 
saw it. There they were, stooping 

22 




A Typical '< Mammy:' 



in Old Virginia 

down and jumping up ; turning and 
twisting, their heads close together, like 
chickens over an " invisible repast," 
their active bodies always in motion : 
busy over their little matters with that 
ceaseless energy of boyhood which 
could move the world could it but be 
concentrated and conserved. They 
were all over the place ; in the orchard 
robbing birds' nests, getting into wild 
excitement over catbirds, which they 
ruthlessly murdered because they " called 
snakes " ; in spring and summer fishing 
or " washing " in the creek, riding the 
plough-horses to and from the fields, 
running the calves and colts, and being 
as mischievous as the young mules they 
chased. 

There were the little girls in their 
great sunbonnets, often sewed on to 
preserve the wonderful peach-blossom 
complexions, with their small female 
companions playing about the yard or 
garden, running with and wishing they 
were boys, and getting half scoldings 
25 



Social Life 




from- mammy for being tomboys and 
tearing their aprons and dresses. There, 
in the shade, near her " house," was 
the mammy with her assistants, her 
little charge in her arms, sleeping in 
her ample lap, or toddling about her, 
with broken, half-formed phrases, better 
understood than framed. There passed 
young negro girls, blue-habited, run- 
ning about bearing messages ; or older 
women moving at a statelier pace, doing 
with deliberation the little tasks which 
were their " work ;" whilst about the 
office or smoke-house or dairy or 

25 



in Old Virginia 




wood-pile there was always some 
movement and life. The peace of it 
all was only emphasized by the sounds 
that broke upon it : the call of ploughers 
to their teams -, the shrill shouts of 
children ; the chant of women over 
their work, and as a bass the recurrent 
hum of spinning-wheels, like the drone 
of some great insect, sounding from 
cabins where the turbaned spinners spun 
their fleecy rolls for the looms which 
were clacking in the loom-rooms mak- 
ing homespun for the plantation. 
From the back yard and quarters the 
'27 



Social Life 

laughter of women and the shrill, joyous 
voices of children came. P'ar off, in 
the fields, the white-shirted " ploughers " 
followed singing their slow teams in the 
fresh furrows, wagons rattled, and ox- 
carts crawled along, or gangs of hands 
in lines performed their work in the 
corn or tobacco fields, loud shouts and 
peals of laughter, mellowed by the dis- 
tance, floating up from time to time, 
telling that the heart was light and the 
toil not too heavy. 

At special times there was special 
activitv : at ice-getting time, at corn- 
thinning time, at fodder-pulling time, at 
threshing-wheat time, but above all at 
corn-shucking time, at hog-killing time, 
and at " harvest." Harvest was spoken 
of as a season. It was a festival. The 
severest toil of the year was a frolic. 
Every " hand " was eager for it. It 
was the test of the men's prowess and 
the women's skill. For it took a man to 
swine his cradle throuo-h the lonp; lune 
days and keep pace with the bare-necked, 
28 



in Old Virginia 

knotted-armed leader as he strode and 
swung his ringing cradle through the 
heavy wheat. So it demanded a strong 
back and nimble fingers in the binding 
to " keep up " and bind the sheaves. 
The young men looked forward to it 
as young bucks look to the war-path. 
How gay they seemed, moving in oblique 
lines around the " great parallelograms," 
sweeping down the yellow grain, and, 
as they neared the starting-point, chant- 
ing with mellow voices the harvest song 
"Cool Water" ! How musical was the 
cadence as, taking time to get their wind, 
they whet in unison their ringing blades ! 
Though the plantations were large, 
so large that one master could not 
hear his neighbor's dog bark, there was 
never any loneliness : it was movement 
and life without bustle ; whilst somehow, 
in the midst of it all, the house seemed 
to sit enthroned in perpetual tranquillity, 
with outstretched wings under its spread- 
ing oaks, sheltering its children like a 
great gray dove. 

31 



Social Life 

Even at night there was stirring 
about : the ring of an axe, the infec- 
tious music of the banjos, the laughter 
of dancers, the festive noise and merri- 
ment of the cabin, the distant, mellowed 
shouts of 'coon or 'possum hunters, or 
the dirge-like chant of some serious 
and timid wayfarer passing along the 
paths over the hills or through the 
woods, and solacing his lonely walk 
with religious song. ^ 

Such was the outward scene. What 
was there within : That which has 
been much misunderstood, — that which 
was like the roses, wasteful bevond 
measure in its unheeded growth and 
blowing, but sweet beyond measure, 
too, and filling with Its fragrance not 
only the region round about, but send- 
ing it out unmeasuredly on every breeze 
that wandered by. 

The life within was of its own kind. 
There were the master and the mis- 
tress: the old master and old mistress, 
the young masters and young mistresses, 
32 



in Old Virginia 

and the children ; besides some aunts 
and cousins, and the relations or friends 




'The Excluslue Property of the Mistress. 

who did not live there, but were only 
always on visits. 

Properly, the mistress should be men- 
3 Z2> 



Social Life 

tioned first, as she was the most impor- 
tant personage about the home., the 
presence which pervaded the mansion, 
the centre of all that life, the queen of 
that realm ; the master willingly and 
proudly yielding her entire management 
of all household matters and simply 
carrying out her directions, confining 
his ownership within the curtilage solely 
to his old " secretary," which on the mis- 
tress's part was as sacred from her touch 
as her bonnet was from his. There 
were kept mysterious folded papers, and 
equally mysterious parcels, frequently 
brown with the stain of dust and age. 
Had the papers been the lost sibylline 
leaves instead of old receipts and bills, 
and had the parcels contained diamonds 
instead of long-dried melon-seed or old 
flints, now out of date but once ready 
to serve a useful purpose, they could 
not have been more sacredly guarded by 
the mistress. The master usually had to 
hunt for a long period for any particu- 
lar paper, whilst the mistress could in a 
34 



in Old Virginia 

half-hour have arranged everything in 
perfect order ; but the chaos was re- 
garded by her with veneration as real as 
that with which she regarded the mys- 
tery of the heavenly bodies. 

On the other hand, outside of this 
piece of furniture there was nothing in 
the house of which the master even pre- 
tended to know. It was all in her keep- 
ing. Whatever he wanted he called for, 
and she produced it with a certainty and 
promptness which struck him as a per- 
petual miracle. Her system appeared to 
him as the result of a wisdom as pro- 
found as that which fixed and held the 
firmament. He would not have dared 
to interfere, not because he was afraid, 
but because he recognized her superior- 
ity. It would no more have occurred 
to him to make a suggestion about the 
management of the house than about 
that of one of his neighbors ; simply 
because he knew her and acknowledged 
her infallibility. She was, indeed, a sur- 
prising creature — often delicate in frame, 
35 



Social Life 

and of a nervous organization so sensi- 
tive as perhaps to be a great sufferer ; 
but her force and character pervaded 
and directed everything, as unseen yet as 
unmistakably as the power of gravity con- 
trols the particles that constitute the earth. 
It has been assumed by the outside 
world that our people lived a life of 
idleness and ease, a kind of " hammock- 
swung," " sherbet-sipping " existence, 
fanned by slaves, and, in their pride, 
served on bended knees. No conception 
could be further from the truth. The 
ease of the master of a big plantation was 
about that of the head of any great estab- 
lishment where numbers of operatives 
are employed, and to the management 
of which are added the responsibilities 
of the care and complete mastership 
of the liberty of his operatives and their 
families. His work was generally suffi- 
ciently systematized to admit of enough 
personal independence to enable him to 
participate in the duties of hospitality ; 
but any master who had a successfully 

36 



in Old Virginia 

conducted plantation was sure to have 
given it his personal supervision with an 
unremitting attention which would not 
have failed to secure success in any other 
calling. If this was true of the master, 
it was much more so of the mistress. 
The master might, by having a good 
overseer and reliable headmen, shift a 
portion of the burden from his shoul- 
ders; the mistress had no such means of 
relief. She was the necessary and in- 
variable functionary ; the keystone of 
the domestic economy which bound all 
the rest of the structure and gave it its 
strength and beauty. From early morn 
till morn again the most important and 
delicate concerns of the plantation were 
her charge and care. She gave out 
and directed all the work of the 
women. From superintending the set- 
ting of the turkeys to fighting a 
pestilence, there was nothing which 
was not her work. She was mistress, 
manager, doctor, nurse, counsellor, 
seamstress, teacher, housekeeper, slave, ; 
37 ' 



Social Life 

all at once. She was at the beck and 
call of every one, especially of her hus- 
band, to whom she was "guide, phi- 
losopher, and friend." 

One of them, being told of a broken 
gate by her husband, said, " Well, my 
dear, if I could sew it with my needle 
and thread, I would mend it for you." 

What she was, only her husband 
divined, and even he stood before her 
in dumb, half-amazed admiration, as 
he mio:ht before the inscrutable vision of 
a superior being. What she really was, 
was known only to God. Her life was 
one long act of devotion, — devotion to 
God, devotion to her husband, devotion 
to her children, devotion to her ser- 
vants, to her friends, to the poor, to hu- 
manity. Nothing happened within the 
range of her knowledge that her sym- 
pathy did not reach and her charity and 
wisdom did not ameliorate. She was 
the head and front of the church ; an 
unmitred bishop in partibus^ more effec- 
tual than the vestry or deacons, more 
38 




The Mistress, 



in Old Virginia 

earnest than the rector ; she managed 
her family, regulated her servants, fed 
the poor, nursed the sick, consoled the 
bereaved. Who knew of the visits 
she paid to the cabins of her sick and 
suffering servants ! often, at the dead 
of night, " slipping down " the last 
thing to see that her directions were 
carried out ; with her own hands ad- 
ministering medicines or food ; ever 
by her cheeriness inspiring new hope, 
by her strength giving courage, by her 
presence awaking faith ; telling in her 
soft voice to dying ears the story of 
the suffering Saviour ; with her hope 
soothing the troubled spirit, and light- 
ing with her own faith the path down 
into the valley of the dark shadow. 
What poor person was there, however 
inaccessible the cabin, that was sick 
or destitute and knew not her charity ! 
Who that was bereaved that had not 
her sympathy ! 

The training of her children was 
her work. She watched over them, 
41 



Social Life 

inspired them, led them, governed 
them ; her will impelled them ; her 
word to them, as to her servants, 
) was law. She reaped the reward, j 
If she admired them, she was too 
wise to let them know it ; but her 
sympathy and tenderness were theirs 
always, and they worshipped her. 

There was something in seeing the 
master and mistress obeyed by the plan- 
tation and looked up to by the neighbor- 

, hood which inspired the children with 
a reverence akin to awe which is not 
known at this present time. It was 

) not till the young people were grown 
that this reverence lost the awe and 
became based only upon affection and 
admiration. Then, for the first time, 
they dared to jest with her ; then, for 
the first time, they took in that she 
had been like them once, young and 
gay and pleasure-loving, with coquet- 
ries and maidenly ways, with lovers 
suing for her ; and that she still took 
pleasure in the recollection, — this gen- 
42 



In Old Virginia 

tie, classic, serious mother among her 
tall sons and radiant daughters. How 
she blushed as they laughed at her and 
teased her to tell of her conquests, her 
confusion making her look younger and 
prettier than they remembered her, and 
opening their eyes to the truth of what 
their father had told them so often, that 
not one of them could be as beautiful 
as she. 

She became timid and dependent as 
they grew up and she found them 
adorned with new fashions and ways 
which she did not know ; she gave 
herself up to their guidance with an 
appealing kind of diffidence ; was trem- 
ulous over her ignorance of the novel 
fashions which made them so charm- 
ing. Yet, when the exactions of her 
position came upon her, she calmly 
took the lead, and, by her instinctive 
dignity, her wisdom, and her force, 
eclipsed them all as naturally as the 
full moon in heaven dims the stars. 

Such in part was the mistress. As 

43 



Social Life 

to the master himself, it is hard to 
generalize. Yet there were indeed 
certain generic characteristics, whether 
he was grave and severe, or jovial and 
easy. There was the foundation of a 
certain pride based on self-respect and 
consciousness of power. There were 
nearly always the firm mouth with its 
strong lines, the calm, placid, direct 
gaze, the quiet speech of one who is 
accustomed to command and have his 
command obeyed ; there was a contem- 
plative expression due to much commun- 
ing alone, with weighty responsibilities 
resting upon him ; there was absolute 
self-confidence, and often a look caused 
by tenacity of opinion. There was not 
a doubtful line in the face nor a doubt- 
ful tone in the voice ; his opinions were 
convictions ; he was a partisan to the 
backbone ; and not infrequently he was 
incapable of seeing more than one side. 
This prevented breadth, but gave force. 
He was proud, but rarely haughty except 
to dishonor. To that he was inexo- 
44 



In Old Virginia 

rable. He believed in God, he believed 
in his wife, he believed in his blood. 
He was chivalrous, he was generous, 
he was usually incapable of fear or of 
meanness. To be a Virginia gentle- 
man was the first duty ; it embraced 
being a Christian and all the virtues. 
He lived as one; he left it as a heri- 
tage to his children. He was fully 
appreciative of both the honors and the 
responsibilities of his position. He be- l 
lieved in a democracy, but understood : 
that the absence of a titled aristocracy 
had to be supplied by a class more 
virtuous than he believed any aristoc- ^ 
racy to be. He purposed in his own i 
person to prove that this was practi- 
cable. He established the fact that it 
was. This and other responsibilities 
made him grave. He had inherited 
gravity from his father and grandfather. 
The latter had been a performer in the 
greatest work of modern times, with 
the shadow of the scaffold over him if 
he failed. The former had faced the 
45 



Social Life 

weighty problems of the new govern- 
ment, with many unsolved questions 
ever to answer. He himself faced prob- 
lems not less grave. The greatness 
of the past, the time when Virginia 
had been the mighty power of the New 
World, loomed ever above him. It 
increased his natural conservatism. He 
saw the change that was steadily creep- 
ing on. The conditions that had given 
his class their power and prestige had 
altered. The fields were worked down, 
and agriculture that had made his class 
rich no longer paid. The cloud was 
already gathering in the horizon ; the 
shadow already was stretching towards 
him. He could foresee the dan2;er that 
threatened Virginia. A peril ever sat 
beside his door. He was " holding 
the wolf by the ears." Outside influ- 
ences hostile to his interest were being 
brought to bear. Any movement must 
work him injury. He sought the only 
refuge that appeared. He fell back 
behind the Constitution that his fathers 
46 



in Old Virginia 

had helped to establish, and became a 
strict constructionist for Virginia and 
his rights. These things made him 
grave. He reflected much. Out on 
the long verandas in the dusk of the 
summer nights, with his wide fields 
stretching away into the gloom, and 
" the woods " bounding the horizon, 
his thoughts dwelt upon serious things; 
he pondered causes and consequences ; 
he resolved everything to prime prin- 
ciples. He communed with the Creator 
and his first work, Nature. 

This communion made him a won- 
derful talker. He discoursed of phi- 
losophy, politics, and religion. He read 
much, generally on these subjects, and 
read only the best. His bookcases 
held the masters (in mellow Elzevirs 
and Lintots) who had been his father's 
friends, and with whom he associated 
and communed more intimately than 
with his neighbors. Homer, Horace, 
Virgil, Ovid, Shakespeare, Milton, Dry- 
den, Goldsmith, " Mr. Pope," were his 
47 



Social Life 

poets ; Plutarch, Bacon, Burke, and 
Dr. Johnson were his philosophers. 
He knew their teachings and tried to 
pattern himself on them. These "new 
fellows " that his sons raved over he 
held in so much contempt that his mere 
statement of their inferiority was to his 
mind an all-convincing argument. 

In religion he was as orthodox as 
the parson. He might not be a pro- 
fessing member of the church ; but 
he was one of its pillars : ready to 
stand by, and, if need were, to fight to 
the death for the Thirty-nine Articles, 
or the Confession of Faith. Yet, 
if he was generally grave, he was 
at times, among his intimates and 
guests, jovial, even gay. On festive 
occasions no one surpassed him in 
cheeriness. To a stranger he was 
always a host, to a lady always a 
courtier. When the house was full of 
guests, he was the life of the company. 
He led the prettiest girl out for the 
dance. At Christmas he took her 
48 




« His thoughts dnvelt upon serious thi?igs.' 



in Old Virginia 

under the mistletoe, and paid her gra- 
cious compliments which made her 
blush and courtesy with dimpling face 
and dancing eyes. But whatever was 
his mood, whatever his surroundings, 
he was always the exponent of that 
grave and knightly courtesy which un- 
der all conditions has become associated 
with the title " Virginia gentleman." 

Whether or not the sons were, as 
young men, peculiarly admirable may 
be a question. They possessed the 
faults and the virtues of young men 
of their kind and condition. They 
were given to self-indulgence ; they 
were not broad in their limitations ; 
they were apt to contemn what did 
not accord with their own established 
views (for their views were established 
before their mustaches) ; they were 
wasteful of time and energies beyond 
belief; they were addicted to the pur- 
suit of pleasure. They exhibited the 
customary failings of their kind in a 
society of an aristocratic character. 
51 



Social Life 

But they possessed in full measure the 
corresponding virtues. They were 
brave, they were generous, they were 
high-spirited. Indulgence in pleasure 
did not destroy them. It was the 
young P'rench noblesse who affected to 
eschew exertion even to the point of 
having themselves borne on litters on 
their boar-hunts, and who yet, with 
a hundred pounds of iron buckled on 
their frames, charged like furies at 
Fontenoy. So these same languid, 
philandering young gentlemen, when 
the crucial occasion came, suddenly 
appeared as the most dashing and 
indomitable soldiery of modern times. 
It was the Norfolk company known 
as the "Dandies" that was extirpated 
in a single day. 

But, whatever may be thought of 
the sons, there can be no question as to 
the daughters. They were like the 
mother; made in her own image. They 
filled a peculiar place in the civilization ; 
the key was set to them. They held by 
52 



in Old Virginia 

a universal consent the first place in the 
system, all social life revolving around 
them. So generally did the life shape 
j itself about the young girl that it was 
almost as if a bit of the age of chivalry 
had been blown down the centuries and 
lodged in the old State. She instinc- 
tively adapted herself to it. In fact, 
she was made for it. She was gently 
bred : her people for generations (since 
they had come to Virginia) were gentle- 
folk. They were so well satisfied that 
they had been the same in the mother 
country that they had never taken the 
trouble to investigate it. She was the 
incontestable proof of their gentility. 
In right of her blood (the beautiful 
Saxon, tempered by the influences of 
the genial Southern clime), she was ex- 
quisite, fine, beautiful ; a creature of 
peach-blossom and snow ; languid, deli- 
cate, saucy ; now imperious, now melt- 
ing, always bewitching. She was not 
versed in the ways of the world, but she 
had no need to be ; she was better than 
53 



Social Life 

that ; she was well bred. She had not 
to learn to be a lady, because she was 
born one. Generations had given her 
that by heredity. She grew up apart 
from the great world. But ignorance 
of the world did not make her provin- 
cial. Her instinct was an infallible 
guide. When a child she had in her 
sunbonnet and apron met the visitors at 
the front steps and entertained them in 
the parlor until her mother was ready 
to appear. Thus she had grown up to 
the duties of hostess. Her manners 
were as perfectly formed as her mother's, 
with perhaps a shade more self-posses- 
sion. Her beauty was a title which 
gave her a graciousness that well be- 
fitted her. She never ••' came out," 
because she had never been " in ; " and 
the line between girlhood and young- 
ladyhood was never known. She began 
to have beaux certainly before she 
reached the line ; but it did her no 
harm : she would herself long walk 
" fancy free." A protracted devotion 

54 



in Old Virginia 

was required of her lovers, and they be- 
gan early. They were willing to serve 
long, for she was a prize worth the ser- 
vice. Her beauty, though it was often 
dazzling, was not her chief attraction. 




An Old Virginia Sideboard. 

That was herself: that indefinable 
charm ; the result of many attractions, in 
combination and perfect harmony, which 
made her herself. She was delicate, she 
was dainty, she was sweet. She lived 
in an atmosphere created for her, — 
55 



Social Life 

the pure, clean, sweet atmosphere of her 
country home. She made its sunshine. 
She was generally a coquette, often an 
outrageous flirt. It did not imply heart- 
lessness. It was said that the worst 
flirts made the most devoted wives. It 
was simply an instinct, an inheritance ; 
it was in the life. Her heart was tender 
towards every living thing but her 
lovers ; even to them it was soft in 
every way but one. Had they had a 
finger-ache, she would have sympathized 
with them. But in the matter of love 
she was inexorable, remorseless. She 
played upon every chord of the heart. 
Perhaps it was because, when she gave 
up, the surrender was to be absolute. 
From the moment of marriage she was 
the worshipper. Truly she was a strange 
being. In her muslin and lawn ; with 
her delicious, low, slow, musical speech ; 
accustomed to be waited on at every 
turn, with servants to do her every bid- 
ding ; unhabituated often e^^en to put- 
ting on her dainty slippers or combing 

56 



in Old Virginia 

her soft hair, — she possessed a reserve 
force which was astounding. She was 
accustomed to have her wishes obeyed 
as commands. It did not make her 
imperious; it simply gave her the habit 
of control. At marriage she was pre- 
pared to assume the duties of mistress 
of her establishment, whether it were 
great or small. 

Thus, when the time came, the class 
at the South which had been deemed 
the most supine suddenly appeared as 
the most efficient and the most indom- 
itable. The courage which the men 
displayed in battle was wonderful ; but 
it was nothing to what the Southern 
women exemplified at home. There 
was, perhaps, not a doubtful woman 
within the limits of the Confederacy. 
Whilst their lovers and husbands 
fought in the field, they performed 
the harder part of waiting at home. 
With more than a soldier's courage 
they bore more than a soldier's hard- 
ship. For four long years they listened 
57 



Social Life 

to the noise of the guns, awaiting with 
blanched faces but undaunted hearts the 
news of battle after battle ; buried their 
beloved dead with tears, and still amid 
their tears encouraged the survivors to 
fight on. It was a force which has not 
been duly estimated. It was in the blood. 

She was indeed a strange creature, 
that delicate, dainty, mischievous, ten- 
der. God-fearing, inexplicable Southern 
girl. With her fine grain, her silken 
hair, her satiny skin, her musical 
speech ; pleasure-loving, saucy, be- 
witching — deep down lay the bed- 
rock foundation of innate virtue, piety, 
and womanliness, on which were 
planted all for which human nature 
can hope, and all to which it can aspire. 
Words fail to convey an idea of what 
she was ; as well try to describe the 
beauty of the rose or the perfume of 
the violet. To appreciate her one must 
have seen her, have known her, have 
loved her. 

There are certain other characters 
S8 



in Old Virginia 

without mention of which no picture of 
the social life of the South would be 
complete : the old mammies and family 
servants about the house. These were 
important, and helped to make the life. 
The Mammy was the zealous, faithful, 
and efficient assistant of the mistress in 
all that pertained to the care and train- 
ing of the children. Her authority was 
recognized in all that related to them 
directly or indirectly, second only to 
that of the Mistress and Master. She 
tended them, regulated them, disciplined 
them : having authority indeed in cases 
to administer correction ; for her affec- 
tion was undoubted. Her regime ex- 
tended frequently through two genera- 
tions, occasionally through three. From 
their infancy she was the careful and 
faithful nurse, the affection between her 
and the children she nursed being often 
more marked than that between her 
and her own offspring. She may have 
been harsh to the latter ; she was never 
anything but tender with the others. 
59 



Social Life 

Her authority was, in a measure, recog- 
nized through life, for her devotion was 
unquestionable. The young masters and 
mistresses were her " children " long 
after they had children of their own. 
When they parted from her or met with 
her again after separation, they embraced 
her with the same affection as when in 
childhood she " led them smiling into 
sleep." She was worthy of the affection. 
At all times she was their faithful ally 
and champion, excusing them, shielding 
them, petting them, aiding them, yet 
holding them up too to a certain high 
accountability. Her influence was always 
for good. She received, as she gave, an 
unqualified affection. If she was a slave, 
she at least was not a servant, but was 
an honored member of the family, uni- 
versally beloved, universally cared for — 
" the Mammy." 

Next to her in importance and rank 
were the Butler and the Carriage-driver, 
These with the Mammy were the aris- 
tocrats of the family, who trained the 
60 




She Hvas ne^ver anjthmg but tender nvith the others.' 



in Old Virginia 

children in good manners and other ex- 
ercises ; and uncompromising aristocrats 
they were. The Butler was apt to be 
severe, and was feared ; the Driver was 
genial and kindly, and was adored. I 
recall a butler, " Uncle Tom," an aus- 
tere gentleman, who was the terror of 
the juniors of the connection. One of 
the children, after watching him furtively 
as he moved about with grand air, when 
he had left the room and his footsteps 
had died away, crept over and asked her 
grandmother, his mistress, in an awed 
whisper, "Grandma, are you 'fraid of 
Unc' Tom ? " 

The Driver was the ally of the boys, 
the worshipper of the girls, and conse- 
quently had an ally in their mother, the 
mistress. As the head of the stable, 
he was an important personage. This 
comradeship was never forgotten ; it 
lasted through life. The years might 
grow on him, his eyes might become 
dim ; but he was left in command even 
when he was too feeble to hold the 

63 



Social Life 

horses ; and though he might no longer 
grasp the reins, he at least held the title, 
and to the end was always ^'' the Driver 
of Mistiss's carriage." 

Other servants too there were with 
special places and privileges, — gardeners 
and " boys about the house," comrades 
of the boys ; and " own maids," for 
each girl had her " own maid." They 
/ all formed one great family in the social 
structure now passed away, a struc- 
ture incredible by those who knew it 
not, and now, under new conditions, 
almost incredible by those who knew 
it best. 

The social life formed of these ele- 
ments combined was one of singular 
sweetness and freedom from vice. If it 
was not filled with excitement, it was 
replete with happiness and content. It 
Is asserted that it was narrow. Perhaps 
It was. It was so sweet, so charming, 
I that it is little wonder if it asked noth- 
ing more than to be let alone. 

They who lived it were a careless 
64 




'< Ihe Butler ^was apt to be se-vere^ and n.vas 
feared.'''' 



in Old Virginia 

and pleasure-loving people ; but, as in 
most rural communities, their festivities 
were free from dissipation. There was 
'sometimes too great an indulgence on 
the part of young men in the State 
drink, the julep ; but whether it was 
that it killed early, or that it was usually 
abandoned as the responsibilities of life 
increased, an elderly man of dissipated 
habits was almost unknown. They were 
fond of sport, and excelled in it, being 
generally fine riders, good shots, and 
skilled hunters. Love of horses was a 
race characteristic, and fine horseman- 
ship was a thing little considered only 
because it was universal. 

The life was gay. In addition to the 
perpetual round of ordinary entertain- 
ment, there was always on hand or in 
prospect some more formal festivity, — 
a club meeting, a fox-hunt, a party, a 
tournament, a wedding. Little excuse 
was needed to bring people together 
where every one was social, and where 
the great honor was to be the host. 

67 



Social Life 

Scientific horse-racing was confined to 
the regular race-tracks, where the races 
were not dashes, but four-mile heats 
which tested speed and bottom alike. 
But good blood was common, and 
even a ride with a girl in an after- 
noon meant generally a dash along the 
level through the woods, where, truth 
to tell. Miss Atalanta was very apt to 
win. Occasionally there was even a 
dash from the church. The high- 
swung carriages, having received their 
precious loads of lily-fingered, pink- 
faced, laughing girls with teeth like 
pearls and eves like stars, helped in by 
young men who would have thrown not 
only their cloaks but their hearts into 
the mud to keep those daintv feet from 
being soiled, would go ahead ; and then, 
the restive saddle-horses being untied 
from the swinging limbs, the young 
gallants would mount, and, by an in- 
stinctive common impulse, starting all 
together, would make a dash to the 
first hill, on top of which the dust still 
68 



r 






i! ^ 



^ . 




•-J 



^MsH^^^ 



in Old Virginia 

lingered, a golden nimbus thrown from 
the wheels that rolled their goddesses. 

The chief sport, however, was fox- 
hunting. It was, in season, almost 
universal. Who that lived in that time 
does not remember the fox-hunts, — the 
eager chase after "grays" or "old 
reds " ! The grays furnished more fun, 
the reds more excitement. The grays 
did not run so far, but usually kept near 
home, going in a circuit of six or eight 
miles. "An old red," generally so 
called irrespective of age, as a tribute to 
his prowess, might lead the dogs all day, 
and end by losing them as evening 
fell, after taking them a dead stretch 
for thirty miles. The capture of a gray 
was what men boasted of; a chase 
after " an old red " was what they 
" yarned " about. Some old reds be- 
came historical characters, and were as 
well known and as much discussed in the 
counties they inhabited as the leaders of 
the bar or the crack speakers of the 
circuit. The wiles and guiles of each 
71 



Social Life 

veteran were the pride of his neighbors 
and hunters. Many of them had names. 
Gentlemen discussed them at their club 
dinners ; lawyers told stories about 
them in the " Lawyers' Rooms " at the 
court-houses ; young men, while they 
waited for the preacher to get well into 
the service before going into church, 
bragged about them in the churchyards 
on Sundays. There was one such that 
I remember : he was known as " Nat 
Turner," after the notorious leader of 
" Nat Turner's Rebellion," who re- 
mained in hiding for weeks after all 
his followers were taken. 

Great frolics these hunts were ; for 
there were the prettiest girls in the 
world in the country houses round 
about, and each young fellow was sure 
to have in his heart some brown or 
blue-eyed maiden to whom he had 
promised the brush, and to whom, with 
feigned indifference but with mantling 
cheek and beating heart, he would carry 
it if, as he counted on doing, he should 
72 



in Old Virginia 

win it. Sometimes the girls came over 
themselves and rode, or more likely 
were already there visiting, and the 
beaux simply followed them by a law 
as immutable as that by which the 
result follows the premises in a mathe- 
matical proposition. 

Even the boys had their lady-loves, 
and rode for them on the colts or 
mules : not the small girls of their own 
age (no " little girls " for them !). Their 
sweethearts were grown young ladies, 
with smiling eyes and silken hair and 
graceful mien, whom their grown 
cousins courted, and whom they with 
their boys' hearts worshipped. Often 
a half-dozen were in love with one — 
always the prettiest one — and, with 
the generous spirit of boys in whom the 
selfish instinct has not yet awakened, 
agreed among themselves that they 
would all ride for her, and that which- 
ever got the brush should present it on 
behalf of all. 

What a gallant sight it was ! The ap- 
73 



Social Life 

pearance of the hunters on the far hill, 
in the evening, with their packs sur- 
rounding them ! Who does not recall 
the excitement at the house ; the arrival 
in the yard, with horns blowing, hounds 
baying, horses prancing, and girls laugh- 
ing ; the picture of the young ladies on 
the front portico with their arms round 
each other's dainty waists, — the slender, 
pretty figures, the bright faces, the 
sparkling eyes, the gay laughter and 
musical voices, as with coquettish merri- 
ment they challenged the riders, de- 
manding to blow the horns themselves 
or to ride some specially handsome 
horse next morning ! The way, the 
challenge being accepted, they tripped 
down the steps, — some with little 
screams shrinking from the bounding 
dogs ; one or two with stouter hearts, 
fixed upon higher game, bravely ignoring 
them and leaving their management to 
their masters, who at their approach 
sprang to the ground to meet them, hat 
in hand and the telltale blood mounting 
74 







An Old-fashioned Grist-Mill. 



in Old Virginia 

to their sunburned faces, handsome with 
the beauty and pride of youth ! 

I am painfully aware of the inade- 
quacy of my picture. But who could 
do justice to the truth ! 

It was owing to all these and some 
other characteristics that the life was 
what it was. It was on a charming 
key. It possessed an ampleness and 
generosity which were not splendid 
because they were too genuine and 
refined. 

Hospitality had become a recognized 
race characteristic, and was practised as 
a matter of course. It_jvas_jiniversal ; 
it was spontaneous. It was one of the 
distinguishing features of the civiliza- 
tion ; as much a part of the social life 
as any other of the domestic relations. 
Its generosity secured it a distinctive 
title. The exactions it entailed were 
engrossing. Its exercise occupied much 
of the time, and exhausted much of the 
means. The constant intercourse of 
the neighborhood, with its perpetual 
77 



Social Life 

round of dinners, teas, and entertain- 
ments, was supplemented by visits of 
friends and relatives from other sections, 
who came with their families, their 
equipages, and personal servants, to 
spend a month or two, or as long a 
time as they pleased. A dinner invita- 
tion was not so designated. It was, 
with more exactitude, termed " spend- 
ing the day." On Sundays every one 
invited every one else from church, and 
there would be long lines of carriages 
passing in at the open gates. 

It is a mystery how the house ever 
held the visitors. Only the mistress 
knew. Her resources were enormous.), 
The rooms, with their low ceilings, 
were wide, and had a holding capacity 
which was simply astounding. The 
walls seemed to be made of india-rubber, 
so great was their stretching power. 
No one who came, whether friend or 
stranger, was ever turned away. If the 
beds were full — as when were they 
not ! — pallets were put down on the 

78 



in Old Virginia 

floor in the parlor or the garret for 
the younger members of the family, 
sometimes even the passages being 
utilized. Frequently at Christmas the 
master and mistress were compelled to 
resort to the same refuge. 

It was this intercourse, following the 
intermarriage and class feeling of the 
old families, which made Virginians 
clannish, and caused a single distinguish- 
able common strain of blood, however 
distant, to be recognized and counted as 
kinship. 

Perhaps this universal entertainment 
might not now be considered elegant. 
Let us see. 

It was based upon a sentiment as 
pure and unselfish as can animate the 
human mind, — upon kindness. It was 
easy, generous, and refined. The man- 
ners of entertainers and entertained 
alike were gentle, cordial, simple, with, 
to strangers, a slight trace of stateliness. 
The best the hosts had was given 
more was required. 
79 



ness. \ 
; no ) 



Social Life 

The conversation was surprising ; it 
was of the crops, the roads, history, lit- 
erature, politics, mutual friends, includ- 
ing the entire field of neighborhood 
matters, related not as gossip, but as 
affairs of common interest, which every 
one knew or was expected and entitled 
to know. 

Among the ladies, the fashions came 
in, of course, embracing particularly 
" patterns." 

Politics took the place of honor 
among the gentlemen, their range 
embracing not only State and national 
politics, but British as well, as to which 
they possessed astonishing knowledge, 
interest in English matters having been 
handed down from father to son as a 
class test. " My father's " opinion 
was quoted as conclusive authority on 
this and all points, and in matters of 
great importance historically " my grand- 
father, sir," was cited. The peculiarity 
of the whole was that it was cast on a 
high plane, and possessed a literary 
80 



in Old Virginia 



flavor of a high order ; for, as has been 
said, the classics, Latin and English, 
with a fair sprinkling of good old 
French authors, were 
in the bookcases, and 
were there not for 
show, but for com- 
panionship. There 
was nothing for show 
in that life; it was all 
/genuine, real, true. 

They had preserved 
the old customs that 
their fathers had brought 
with them from the 
mother country. The 
great fete of the people, 
was Christmas. Spring 
had its special delights, 
— horse - back rides 
through the budding 
woods, with the birds singing ; fishing 
parties down on the little rivers, with 
out-of-doors lunches and love-making ; 
parties of various kinds from house to 
6 8i 




A Colonial Sto^e. 



Social Life 

house. Summer had its pleasures, — 
handsome dinners, and teas with moon- 
light strolls and rides to follow ; visits 
to or from relatives, or even to the White 
Sulphur Springs, called simply " the 
White." The Fall had its pleasures. 
But all times and seasons paled and 
dimmed before the festive joys of 
Christmas. It had been handed down 
for generations ; it belonged to the race. 
It had come over with their forefathers. 
It had a peculiar significance. It was a 
title. Religion had given it its bene- 
diction. It was the time to "Shout 
the glad tidings." It was The Holi- 
days. There were other holidays for 
the slaves, both of the school-room and 
the plantation, such as Easter and 
Whit-Monday ; but Christmas was dis^ 
tinctively " The Holidays." Then the 
boys came home from school or college 
with their friends ; the members of the 
family who had moved away returned ; 
pretty cousins came for the festivities ; 
the neighborhood grew merry. The 
82 



in Old Virginia 

negroes were all to have holiday, the 
house-servants taking turn and turn 
about, and the plantation, long before 
the time, made ready for Christmas 
cheer. It was by all the younger 
population looked back to half the 
year, looked forward to the other 
half. Time was measured by it : it 
was either so long " since Christmas," 
or so long "• before Christmas." The 
affairs of the plantation were set in 
order against it. The corn was got in ; 
the hogs were killed ; the lard " tried ; " 
sausage-meat made ; mince-meat pre- 
pared ; turkeys fattened, with " the 
big gobbler" specially devoted to the 
" Christmas dinner ; " the servants' 
winter clothes and new shoes stored 
away ready for distribution ; and the 
plantation began to be ready to prepare 
for Christmas. 

In the first place, there was generally 
a cold spell which froze up everything 
and enabled the ice-houses to be filled. 
(The seasons, like a good many other 

83 



Social Life 

things, appear to have changed since 
that old time before the war.) This 
spell was the harbinger; and great fun 
it was at the ice-pond, where the big 
rafts of ice were floated along, with the 
boys on them. The rusty skates with 
their curled runners and stiff straps were 
gotten ut, and maybe tried for a day. 
Then the stir began. The wagons all 
were put to hauling wood — hickory. 
\ Nothing but hickory now ; other wood 
mio-ht do for other times. But at 
Christmas only hickory was used ; and 
the wood-pile was heaped high with the 
logs ; while to the ordinary wood-cutters 
" for the house " were added three, four, 
a half-dozen more, whose shining axe-^ 
rang around the wood-pile all day long. 
With what a vim they cut, and how 
telling was that earnest " Ha'nh ! " as 
they drove the ringing axes into the 
hard wood, sending the big white chips 
flying in all directions ! It was always 
the envy of the boys, that simulta- 
neous, ostentatious expulsion of the 
84 



In Old Virginia 

/ breath, and they used to try vainly to 
1 imitate it. 

In the midst of it all came the 
wagon or the ox-cart from " the depot," 
with the big white boxes of Christmas 
things, the black driver feigning hypo- 
critical indifference as he drove through 
the choppers to the storeroom. Then 
came the rush of all the cutters to help 
him unload ; the jokes among them- 
selves, as they pretended to strain in 
lifting, of what " master " or " mistis " 
was going to give them out of those 
boxes, uttered just loud enough to 
reach their master's or mistress's ears 
where they stood looking on, whilst the 
driver took due advantage of his tem- 
porary prestige to give many pompous 
cautions and directions. 

The getting the evergreens and mistle-' 
toe was the sign that Christmas had^ 
come, was really here. There were 
the parlor and hall and dining-room to 
be " dressed," and, above all, the old 
church. The last was the work of the 

85 



Social Life 

neighborhood ; all united in it, and it 
was one of the events of the year. 
Young men rode thirty and forty miles 
to " help " dress that church. They did 
not go home again till after Christmas. 

The return from the church was the 
beginning of the festivities. 

Then by " Christmas Eve's eve " the 
wood was all cut and stacked high in 
the wood-house and on and under the 
back porticos, so as to be handy, and 
secure from the snow which was almost 
certain to come. It seems that Christ- 
mas was almost sure to bring it in old 
times ; at least it is closely associated 
with it. The excitement increased ; 
the boxes were unpacked, some of them 
openly, to the general delight ; others 
with a mvsterious secrecy which stimu- 
lated curiosity to its highest point and 
added immeasurably to the charm of 
the occasion. The kitchen filled up 
with assistants famed for special skill in 
particular branches of the cook's art, 
who bustled about with glistening faces 
86 




Dressing the Church. 



in Old Virginia 

and shining teeth, proud of their eleva- 
tion and eager to prove their merits and 
add to the general cheer. 

It was now Christmas Eve. From 
time to time the " hired out " servants 
came home from Richmond or other 
places where they had been hired or had 
hired out themselves, their terms having 
been by common custom framed, with 
due regard to their rights to the holiday, 
to expire in time for them to spend the 
Christmas at home.^ There was much 
hilarity over their arrival, and they were 
welcomed like members of the family as, 
with their new winter clothes donned a 
little ahead of time, they came to pay 
"bespec's to master and mistis." 

Then the vehicles went off to the dis- 
tant station for the visitors — the visitors 
and the boys. Oh the excitement of 
that ! at first the drag of the long hours, 
and then the eager expectancy as the 
time approached for their return ; the 

1 The hiring contracts ran from New Year 
to Christmas. 

89 



Social Life 

" making up " of the fires in the visitors' 
rooms (of the big fires ; there had been 
fires there all day " to air " them, but 
now they must be made up afresh) ; 
the hurrying backwards and forwards 
of the servants ; the feverish impatience 
of every one, especially of the children, 
who are sure the train is " late " or 
that something has " happened," and 
who run and look up towards the big 
gate every five minutes, notwithstand- 
ing the mammy's oft-repeated caution 
that a " watch ' pot never b'iles." 
There was one exception to the gen- 
eral excitement : the Mistress, calm, 
deliberate, unperturbed, moved about 
with her usual serene composure, her 
watchful eve seeing that everything 
was " ready." Her orders had been 
given and her arrangements made 
days before, such was her system. 
The young ladies, having finished 
dressing the parlor and hall, had dis- 
appeared. Satisfied at last with their 
work, after innumerable final touches, 
90 



in Old Virginia 

every one of which was an undeniable 
improvement to that which had already 
appeared perfect, they had suddenly 
vanished — vanished as completely as 
a dream — to appear again later on at 
the parlor door, radiant visions of love- 
liness, or, mavbe, if certain visitors un- 
expectedly arrived, to meet accidentally 
in the less embarrassing and safer pre- 
cincts of the dimly lighted halls or 
passages. When they appeared, what 
a transformation had taken place ! If 
they were bewitching before, now they 
were entrancing. The gay, laughing, 
saucy creature who had been dressing 
the parlors and hanging the mistletoe 
with manv jests and parries of the half- 
veiled references was now a demure or 
stately maiden in all the dignity of a new 
gown and with all the graciousness of a 
young countess. 

But this is after the carriages return. 

They have not yet arrived. They are 

late — they are always late — and it is 

dark before thev come ; the glow of 

91 



Social Life 

the fires and candles shines out through 
the windows on the snow, often black- 
ened by the shadows of little figures 
whose noses are pressed to the cold 
panes, which grow blurred with their 
warm breath. Meantime the carriages, 
piled outside and in, are slowly making 
their way homeward through the frozen 
roads, followed by the creaking wagon 
filled with trunks, on which are haply 
perched small muflled figures, whose 
places in the carriages are taken by 
unexpected guests. The drivers still 
keep up a running fire with their young 
masters, though they . have long since 
been pumped dry as to every conceiv- 
able matter connected with " home," 
in return for which they receive infor- 
mation as to school and college pranks. 
At last the " big gate " is reached ; a 
half-frozen figure rolls out and runs to 
open it, flapping his arms in the dark- 
ness like some strange, uncanny bird ; 
they pass through ; the gleam of a light 
shines away off on a far hill. The 
92 




•2j 



in Old Virginia 

shout goes up, " There she is ; I see 
her ! " The light is lost, but a little 
later appears again. It is the light in 
the mother's chamber, the curtains of 
the windows of which have been left up 
intentionally, that the welcoming gleam 
may be seen afar off by her boys on the 
first hill — a blessed beacon shining 
from home and her mother's heart. 

Across the white fields the dark 
vehicles move, then toil up the house 
hill, filled with their eager occupants, 
who can scarce restrain themselves ; 
approach the house, by this time glow- 
ing with lighted windows, and enter 
the yard just as the doors open and a 
swarm rushes out with joyful cries of, 
"Here they are!" "Yes, here we 
are ! " comes in cheery answer, and 
one after another they roll or step out, 
according to age and dignity, and run 
up the steps, stamping their feet, the 
boys to be taken fast into motherly 
arms, and the visitors to be given 
warm handclasps and cordial welcomes. 
95 



Social Life 

Later on the children were got to 
bed, scarce able to keep in their pallets 
for excitement ; the stockings were all 
hung up over the big fireplace ; and 
the grown people grew gay in the 
crowded parlors. There was no splen- 
dor, nor show, nor style as it would be 
understood now. Had there been, it 
could not have been so charming. 
There were only profusion and sin- 
cerity, heartiness and gayety, cordiality 
and cheer, and withal genuineness and 
refinement. 

Next morning the stir began before 
light. White-clad little figures stole 
about in the gloom, with bulging stock- 
ings clasped to their bosoms, opening 
doors, shouting " Christmas gift ! " into 
dark rooms at sleeping elders, and then 
scurrying away like so many white 
mice, squeaking with delight, to rake 
open the embers and inspect their treas- 
ures. At prayers, "• Shout the glad tid- 
ings " was sung by fresh young voices 
with due fervor. 

96 



in Old Virginia 

How gay the scene was at breakfast ! 
What pranks had been performed in 
the name of Santa Claus ! Every 
foible had been played on. What 
lovely telltale blushes and glances and 
laughter greeted the confessions ! The 
larger part of the day was spent in 
going to and coming from the beauti- 
fully dressed church, where the service 
was read, and the anthems and hymns 
were sung by every one, for every one 
was happy. 

But, as in the beginning of things, 
"the evening and the morning were 
the first day." Dinner was the great 
event. It was the test of the mistress 
and the cook, or, rather, the cooks ; for 
the kitchen now was full of them. It 
is impossible to describe it. The old 
mahogany table, stretched diagonally 
across the dining-room, groaned ; the 
big gobbler filled the place of honor ; 
a great round of beef held the second 
place ; an old ham, with every other 
dish that ingenuity, backed by long 
7 97 



Social Life 

experience, could devise, was at the 
side, and the shining sideboard, gleam- 
ing with glass, scarcely held the dessert. 
The butler and his assistants were super- 
naturally serious and slow, which be- 
spoke plainly too frequent a recourse 
to the apple-toddy bowl ; but under 
the stimulus of the mistress's eye, they 
got through all right, and their slight 
unsteadiness was overlooked. 

It was then that the fun began. 

After dinner there were apple-toddy 
and egg-nog, as there had been before. 

There were games and dances — 
country dances, the lancers and quad- 
rilles. The top of the old piano was 
lifted up, and the infectious dancing- 
tunes rolled out under the flying fingers. 
Haplv there was some demur on the 
part of the elder ladies, who were not 
quite sure that it was right ; but it was 
overruled by the gentlemen, and the 
master in his frock coat and high collar 
started the ball' by catching the prettiest 
girl by the hand and leading her to the 




The Virginia Reel. 



in Old Virginia 

head of the room right under the noses 
of half a dozen bashful lovers, calling 
to them meantime to " get their sweet- 
hearts and come along." Round danc- 
ing was not yet introduced. It was 
regarded as an innovation, if nothing 
worse. It was held generally as highly 
improper, by some as " disgusting." 
As to the german, why, had it been 
known, the very name would have 
been sufficient to damn it. Nothing 
foreign in that civilization ! There was 
fun enough in the old-fashioned country 
dances, and the " Virginia reel " at the 
close. Whoever could not be satisfied 
with that was hard to please. 

But it was not only in the " great 
house" that there was Christmas cheer. 
Every cabin was full of it, and in 
the wash-house or the carpenter-shop 
there was preparation for a plantation 
supper. 

At this time, too, there were the 
negro parties, where the ladies and 
gentlemen went to look on, the sup- 



Social Life 

per having been superintended by the 
mistresses, and the tables being deco- 
rated by their own white hands. 
There was almost sure to be a negro 
wedding during the holidays. The 
ceremony might be performed in the 
dining-room or in the hall by the 
master, or in one of the quarters by a 
colored preacher ; but it was a gay oc- 
casion, and the dusky bride's trousseau 
had been arranged by her young mis- 
tress, and the family was on hand to 
get fun out of the entertainment, and 
to recognize by their presence the 
solemnity of the tie. 

Other weddings there were, too, 
sometimes following these Christmas 
gaveties, and sometimes occurring " just 
so," because the girls were the loveliest 
in the world, and the men were lovers 
almost from their boyhood. How 
beautiful our mothers must have been 
in their youth to have been so beautiful 
in their age ! 

There were no long journeys for the 

I02 



in Old Virginia 

young married folk in those times ; the 
travelling was usually done before mar- 
riage. When a wedding took place, 
however, the entire neighborhood enter- 
tained the young couple. 

Truly it was a charming life. There 
was a vast waste ; but it was not loss. 
Every one had food, every one had rai- 
ment, every one had peace. There 
was not wealth in the base sense in 
which we know it and strive for it and 
trample down others for it now. But 
there was wealth in the good old sense 
in which the litany of our fathers used 
it. There was weal. There was the 
best of all wealth ; there was content, 
and "a quiet mind is richer than a 
crown." 

We have gained something by the 
change. The South under her new 
conditions will in time grow rich, will 
wax fat ; nevertheless we have lost 
much. How much only those who 
knew it can estimate; to them it was 
inestimable. 

105 



Social Life 

That the social life of the Old South 
had its faults I am far from denying. 

^What civilization has not? But its 
virtues far outweighed them ; its graces 
(were never equalled. For all its faults, 
fit was, I believe, the purest, sweetest 
\ life ever lived. It has been claimed 
that it was non-productive, that it fos- 
tered sterility. Only ignorance or folly 
could make the assertion. It largely 
contributed to produce this nation ; it 
led its armies and its navies ; it es- 
tablished this government so iirmly that 
not even it could overthrow it ; it 
opened up the great West ; it added 
Louisiana and Texas, and more than 
trebled our territorv ; it christianized 
the negro race in a little over two cen- 

i turies, impressed upon it regard for 
order, and gave it the only civilization 
it has ever possessed since the dawn of 
history. It has maintained the suprem- 
acy of the Caucasian race, upon which 
all civilization seems now to depend. It 
produced a people whose heroic fight 
1 06 



5^ 




A Typical Negro Cabin. 



in Old Virginia 

against the forces of the world has en- 
riched the annals of the human race, — 
/ a people whose fortitude in defeat has 
i been even more splendid than their 
I valor in war. It made men noble, 
gentle, and brave, and women tender 
and pure and true. It may have fallen 
short in material development in its nar- 
rower sense, but it abounded in spiritual 
development ; it made the domestic vir- 
j tues as common as light and air, and 
I filled homes with purity and peace. 
It has passed from the earth, but it 
has left its benignant influence behind 
it to sweeten and sustain its children. 
The ivory palaces have been destroyed, 
but myrrh, aloes, and cassia still breathe 
amid their dismantled ruins. 



109 



LbMy'30 



